


Red Is for the Heart

by CuriousDinosaur



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: AU, Angst, Boyfriends, Chef AU, Friends to Lovers, Gay Male Character, Loneliness, Love, M/M, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4567371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousDinosaur/pseuds/CuriousDinosaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Executive Chef Augustus Octavius lives for his work. He runs the fine Italian restaurant Sala de Pranzo with his friend and partner Ahkmen Rah in New York City. The restaurant is a success, but Octavius has journalists and writers on his back when they find out that he is gay. The focus turns away from the restaurant and the food, and Octavius doesn't want to meet with anymore journalists. That includes Jedediah Smith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Is for the Heart

The golden sunlight of the first late afternoon of autumn filled the sky above New York City. It had rained most of the morning, and large puddles of rainwater were scattered upon the streets and sidewalks, shining with the reflection of light.

Some citizens of New York were frequently checking their various watches and clocks, tapping their shoes, anticipating the impending Friday evening, longing for the relief of the weekend.

For others, their work was about to begin.

* * *

The sun traveled across the vast city to eventually come upon an Italian restaurant, its light causing the beautifully scripted gold letters that spelled _Sala da Pranzo_ to shine above the closed doors. Meanwhile, light poured in through the clean glass windows, and came to dance upon the unoccupied tables that were neatly set with crisp white tablecloths, perfectly shined glasses, clean white plates, polished silverware, cloth napkins folded into delicate shapes, and a small vase of fresh flowers upon each one. Despite the empty restaurant and quiet atmosphere, the beautifully set tables and the wonderful aroma of fine Italian cuisine coming from the already busy kitchen promised a wonderful meal to those who would be dining at Sala da Pranzo that evening.

One table close to the kitchen door was occupied. Larry Daley sat across from a well-dressed man in his late 20's. The man was Ahkmen Rah, owner of Sala da Pranzo. Even in his masked nervousness, Larry could not help but notice how attractive Ahkmen Rah was. He had a nice haircut, and was dressed quite finely in a rich blue blazer, a white shirt, and black pants. A gold watch was on his left wrist, and Larry watched the delicate hand rotate around the face. The dining room they sat in was so quiet that Larry could hear the very faint "tick" of Mr.Rah’s watch. Larry took a quiet breath and folded his hands together upon the white tablecloth. A cup of coffee sat beside his hands, but Larry felt too anxious and didn't need any more energy. He had only taken it to be polite.

Larry waited patiently, his eyes taking in the large dining room. It was dim and quiet, tables nicely set for the approaching evening. A few waiters already dressed for work moved about silently, inspecting silverware and dishes, folding napkins, and going in and out of the kitchen. When the door to the kitchen would open, Larry could hear the familiar sounds of a restaurant doing final prep for dinner. Larry had not yet met Chef Octavius, but greatly admired his organization and leadership already. Larry had worked in many less than perfect kitchens and wanted to work somewhere where he didn't have to yell at the staff to get off of their asses.

Larry sat deep in thought, thinking of his old jobs, when Mr. Rah laid his resume down flat upon the table. Larry sat completely still as Ahkmen lifted his glass of wine to his lips, and looked into Larry's eyes.

"Well, Mr. Daley your resume is quite impressive." Ahkmen suddenly said, and Larry internally relished the compliment that he had been given, in an English accent no less.

"Thank you, sir."

"But a resume means shit to Chef." Ahkmen said seriously, taking a sip of his wine.

Larry remained expressionless and nodded slowly. Ahkmen smiled with a glint in his green eyes, setting his glass down.

"That was your first test, and you passed. The worst chefs are the ones that cry about how good their resume is. But I was also being truthful. Octavius a very busy man and needs someone immediately as his sous chef and that _could_ be you... But we shall go meet him and let him decide your fate." Ahkmen said cheerfully, standing up, his wine glass in one hand and Larry's resume in the other.

Larry raised his eyebrows but said nothing. He stood up from the table and pushed his chair in. He carefully lifted the cup of coffee up on its saucer, making sure not to spill a drop on the stark white table cloth. Ahkmen waited patiently, watching Larry with a small smile, and when Larry met his eyes he turned around and led them towards the kitchen.

* * *

Augustus Octavius stared at himself with a dour expression as he carefully buttoned his chef's whites. He had his back turned to his desk, where upon the polished wood lay his phone, (an annoying but necessary device), which had put him in a foul mood. Today, it had presented him with a problem that could not be easily taken care of with a stern order, or a threatening shout. If he would show you his phone, (which he never would), you would see that he was bothered by a recent email from his mother.

_Octavius,_

_I was having my morning tea yesterday when Bill pushed the paper towards me across the table (Nearly knocking over my saucer, I might add)._

_He had it turned to the Culinary & Cuisine section, and I was delighted to see a picture of your handsome (but quite serious, really dear, you should smile), face there. They wrote an article about you and your restaurant. I had several neighbors calling me and visiting me to congratulate me. But really Octavius, I congratulate you, (and Ahkmen!), on your success. I always knew that you would do great things with your culinary talent._

_I know that you are very busy with the restaurant darling, but please take some time to call me soon. There is something I would like to discuss with you. Nothing terrible, I promise. Give Ahkmen my love._

_Mum_

Octavius smoothed down the front of his coat, still frowning. His mother had said some nice words, and while any son would feel proud of them, Octavius did not. He knew the article she had referred to, as it had been sent to him in an email a day ago and had put him in a foul disposition. The Manchester Evening News  with a headline: _"Gay Chef Achieves Success in New York City"_ , appeared on his computer screen when he clicked the link in his email, and he had nearly spilled his afternoon coffee all over himself as he read the rubbish article.

He had spent an hour speaking with the writer over the phone. Benjamin Wallace. Octavius would throw his sharpest knife at the little weasel if they were ever to meet in person. Octavius had been naive to assume that the man had actually been listening to what he had to say. Octavius had to think for a moment when he had even mentioned his sexuality. It had been a few minutes before he had to begin dinner service, and they were wrapping up their interview.

“So what does your wife think of being married to an executive Chef?” Benjamin had asked nonchalantly.

“I am not married.” Octavius had said tersely, already tensing in his chair.

“Girlfriend, then?”

“I do not plan to have a relationship with a woman any time soon.” Octavius said, hoping the tone of his voice would give Wallace the hint.

“You mean?...”

“I’m gay.” 

 There had been a moment of silence, and that was a moment of time wasted for Octavius to be in his kitchen.

"If this unremarkable fact suffices, may we conclude that this is the end of the interview?" Octavius had asked, not trying very hard to sound polite. 

"Oh. Oh, yes of course! Thank you for your-"

"You are welcome. Please email a copy of the article when it is published. Goodbye." 

So somehow that brief exchange of information about Chef Octavius' sexuality turned an article which should have been a professional write up about the restaurant into-

_"Augustus Octavius is a single gay man..."_

_"...more talented at cooking than most homosexual men..."_

_"...is too busy to date."_

Octavius gritted his teeth and grabbed his cell phone from where it lay on his desk. He gripped it tightly in his hand, wishing that he could crush it into pieces like a bulb of garlic. Instead he angrily pulled open a drawer from his desk and threw his phone inside, slamming the drawer closed again. 

Fine, tell everyone in England he was gay. But why did they feel the need to emphasize his lack of a relationship?

And, this article and its information had made its way back to New York. Now Sala da Pranzo was getting so many calls from American journalists, unofficial critics, and "food bloggers" that wanted to speak to Octavius about being a gay chef. Why was it such a big deal? Some even had the audacity to try and bribe him for free meals. Not that he had had any first hand contact with these people. No, heaven help them, all of these calls had gone to the front phone. Octavius still needed to give an apology to his maître d', Amelia, as he had yelled at her in frustration the other day when she repeatedly walked into the kitchen with an exasperated look, telephone in hand. He would not speak to these people.

In the case of his mother, he was disgruntled but unsurprised that she had _not_ mentioned the article's content despite what it was so clearly about. She was pretending that it didn't throw the fact that her son was gay at her face.

She never did acknowledge it.

Octavius wondered if his father would. 

He shook his head and opened the door to his office. He stepped out into the kitchen, and watched for a moment as his staff bustled about their stations, doing final preparation for dinner service. Octavius made a quick cycle through his kitchen, making mental notes of what was happening and what needed to be done. Octavius was pleased to see that everyone was busy. 

"Do we have _mise en place_ for pasta ready?" Octavius asked loudly, addressing the entire kitchen.

"Yes Chef!" came the reply.

 Octavius' eyes fell on the pass and his eyes narrowed. 

"Dexter!"

From the dishwashing station came a young teenage boy running over. He wore large gloves, and a wet and dirty apron. Despite this, the boy was smiling as he always did, his hazel eyes bright.

"Dexter, I need you to wipe down the pass so we can use it for the preparation of sodding food. Do this now." Octavius ordered, and Dexter nodded.

" _Si, Jefe!_ " Dexter said, before running back to his station to grab a clean rag. 

Just then, Ahkmen walked into the kitchen. Behind him was another person that Octavius had never seen before. 

"Ah! Chef, I'd like you to meet Larry Daley." Ahk announced.

Larry stepped forward to stand before Octavius and held out his hand. Octavius reached his own out to shake it firmly, eyeing the man for a brief second. He looked at Larry's face and saw calm blue eyes and a small warm smile. Larry had dark hair that was trimmed neatly. Octavius' eyes flicked down to look at Larry's hand. It was clean, which relieved Octavius. 

"It is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Daley." Octavius said as they ended their handshake.

"Oh, same to you Mr. Octavis. I-I mean-" Larry stammered, before falling silent as Octavius shook his head slowly.

"It's _Octavius_ , Larry. You also know that you may call me "Chef", I'm sure." 

"Yes, Chef!" Larry nodded, laughing nervously. 

"Well, now that our "meet and greet" is over, what size do you wear?" Octavius asked seriously, enjoying the look of confusion on Larry's face. 

"I... What? What size-" 

"Pants and coat. You will need them to cook this evening." Octavius told him.

Larry opened his mouth to speak, but after a second he closed it. Octavius smirked inwardly. Smart man. 

"Yes Chef." Larry said quietly. 

"Good. I do hope your shoes are slip-proof. Cassius!" Octavius called.

"Chef!" Cassius answered, coming over quickly to stand by Octavius. 

"Please go to the lockers with Larry and find him a uniform in the correct size." Octavius said, and Cassius nodded.

"Afterwards Larry, make yourself acquainted with the kitchen. You will need to know where everyone and everything is to be ready for tonight. You have 30 minutes." Octavius told him.

Octavius and Ahkmen watched them walk away before turning to face each other.

"He seems very nice." Ahk murmured with a smile.

"Is that his resume?" Octavius sighed, eyeing the paper in Ahk's right hand. 

"Ah, yes!" Ahk said, handing it over to Octavius. "I gave him the "Chef doesn't care about your resume" spiel."

"And?"

"He didn't react at all!" Ahk chuckled, crossing his arms. 

"Mm..."Octavius hummed as his eyes scanned Larry's skills and experience.

He noted the previous sous chef experience in Larry's resume, and the length of time Larry had remained at each job. He was inwardly relieved to see that Larry was not flighty, and had remained at his previous positions for a few years each at least.

"Well Ahk, he certainly looks decent on paper. How did you manage to find him?" Octavius asked, raising a brow.

Ahk's emerald eyes glinted and he bit his lip, trying to hide his smile. Octavius' brow furrowed.

"I know that look, Ahk. What the fuck did you do?" Octavius hissed, but Ahk shushed him.

"Nothing! Well, not _nothing_. I heard from some friends that Capone was looking to hire someone for his restaurant. Larry and I have a mutual friend,Craig (but Larry doesn't know) and Craig told me that Larry had applied there. Well, Capone is only looking for another cook, and Craig gave me Larry's number, and, well..." Ahk explained sheepishly.

Octavius pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. He needed a drink.

"Ahkmen, if that idiot Capone calls this restaurant tonight, even _once_ -"

"He will not as he has been calling my phone. Left some rather nasty voicemail. I don't care though. I feel as if I am doing Larry a favor. He would have just been a poor slave cook over at Capone's when he could be a sous chef for the finest Chef in the world." Ahk said, a bright smile on his face.

"Stop flirting with me, Ahk." Octavius said, feeling his lips almost twitch into a smile.

"Oh! Before I forget, I wanted to tell you that my mother, father, and unfortunately my brother will be dining here tonight." Ahk told him excitedly.

"Really?" Octavius asked, genuinely surprised. "They are in New York?"

"Yes! They surprised me this morning at my apartment. I'm so glad that I didn't have anyone stay over last night." Ahk said, looking relieved.

Octavius chuckled, shaking his head. It would be nice to see Ahk's parents. He had known them since he and Ahk were schoolmates, and they treated him so kindly over the years. 

Just then, the kitchen door opened and a beautiful woman with short blonde curls appeared. She wore a maroon form fitting dress and patent black heels and stood in the doorway.

"Ahk, I need you to speak with some of the wait staff before dinner begins." She said with a smile.

"Of course." Ahk said, glancing at his watch. 

"Amelia." Octavius called gently.

"Chef?" Amelia answered coolly, avoiding his eyes.

"Please come here." Octavius said.

Ahk gave him a look that said " _Be nice._ " and left the kitchen. Amelia stood before him, looking annoyed. 

"I would like to formally apologize for my behavior towards you. It was not right to yell." Octavius told her honestly, and he meant it.

There was a moment of silence, and then Amelia, who had her arms crossed, smiled slowly and turned her blue eyes to look at him.

"Well, I suppose I can forgive you." Amelia said in teasing tone.

"Thank you." Octavius said with a small smile. "Now, if there are any calls like that tonight, all you need to do is hang up politely."

"Yes Chef." Amelia nodded.

Amelia turned to leave the kitchen, but she paused and turned back to face Octavius again.

"I almost forgot to ask, Chef. Did Napoleon come by today?" She asked, frowning when Octavius rolled his eyes.

"Well, let me know if he does. I have a few suggestions for him." Amelia said cheerfully before leaving the kitchen.

* * *

Octavius moved about near the stoves to where sauces simmered. With a quiet snap of his fingers, Chef was handed clean spoon after clean spoon to take a small taste. Except for a comment or two of a necessary additional seasoning, Octavius found the sauces to his liking. 

Octavius busied himself with chopping and mincing some fresh herbs that they were lacking. Each time the blade of his knife came down he thought of Benjamin Wallace and any other journalist or self titled "food blogger".  Out of the corner of his eye, Octavius saw a man with a pale complexion and short dark hair walking towards him slowly and nervously.

“You are late, Napoleon.” Octavius muttered.

Despite his low and even tone, the other cooks began to shift away from Chef if they were able to. Napoleon Bonaparte, sommelier for Sala da Pranzo, smiled weakly and stepped closer to Octavius. Octavius paused his chopping and slammed his knife upon the cutting board, causing Napoleon to flinch. He turned to the nervous looking man, crossing his arms, and waited.

“My apologies, Chef-” Napoleon started, but Octavius held up a hand.

“I don’t care.”

“Oh, but Chef I could not help it! Capone called me during lunch, asking if I would come by his restaurant, and that it is an emergency. We are old friends, so I thought I would go to him, see what the matter is. Is it an emergency? _Non_. He holds me at his restaurant for an hour to complain to me that you have stolen his sous chef!” The Frenchman told Octavius quickly, his hands moving about as he spoke.

Octavius rolls his eyes, turning back to his cutting board.

“If Larry Daley cannot handle one evening in my kitchen, Capone may have him. Whatever is left of him, that is…” Octavius sneered, chopping quickly.

Napoleon glances over towards where Larry is currently stationed, raising an eyebrow.

“That is him? Hm.” Napoleon mutters. “He does not look like much.”

“And neither do you right now, Napoleon. Now, do you have the wine I needed an hour ago, or do I have more reason to toss you out on your ass without a job?” Octavius snapped.

Napoleon took a breath, smiling mischievously, and reached into his navy blue blazer to retrieve a dark bottle of wine.

“At last Napoleon, you have proved your worth and have given me what I have asked for.” Octavius said, examining the bottle.

“Don’t I always, Chef?” Napoleon chuckled, his laughter faltering as Octavius gives him a withering look.

“Tell me there is more.” Octavius says after a moment, still holding the bottle in his hands.

“ _Oui_ , there are three cases in my car.”

“Very good. Larry!” Octavius calls.

“Chef!” Larry answers, hurrying over to stand before Chef.

“Get acquainted with our sommelier Napoleon and assist him with carrying the cases of wine inside.” Octavius commanded.

“Yes Chef!”  

Octavius grabbed a clean wine glass and with a corkscrew he had nearby, uncorked the bottle . He filled the glass half way with the rich red liquid, before lifting it to his nose to breathe in the fragrant bouquet. This particular bottle was Vino Novello, an autumn wine that he requested from Napoleon this time of year. The fruity scents that met Octavius' nose promised delights to come. He brought the glass to his lips slowly, and took a careful sip, savoring the first taste of the Novello. When the wine touched his tongue, he instantly thought of Italy, of Rome. It reminded him of a home, a home that was now only a memory that came to Octavius when he smelled or tasted something that reminded him of it. He held the wine in his mouth, trying hard to remember.

Would his father have enjoyed this wine?

Yes. Octavius swallowed, opening his eyes to gaze at the remaining wine in the glass. 

His father had given him his first drink of red wine. Octavius remembered sitting in a wooden chair across from him. He remembered his father's large hand that held the delicate stem of the glass, and the flickering light from the fireplace that shone through it. Octavius had imagined that he was drinking fire.

_"Red wine is for the heart, Augustus."_

The soft voice drifted through his mind. Octavius took another sip, drinking the memories.

_"Red is the color of love, of passion. Red is for Rome, our history."_

He had been so shy as a child, and hardly looked his father in the face.

Why? 

Octavius placed the glass onto the steel counter, taking a breath. He shook his head slowly, blinking the fading memory of firelight from his eyes. 

"Octavius?"

He looked up to see Ahkmenrah standing close and peering at Octavius with a worried expression. Octavius stood up straight, frowning. 

"What is it, Ahkmen?" He asked.

"Are you alright?"Ahk asked him gently.

"Yes, now what did you come into the kitchen for?" Octavius asked, losing his patience.

Ahkmen rolled his eyes. He was used to Octavius being an asshole before dinner.

"I would like to discuss something with you in private before you get too busy." Ahkmen told him, checking his gold watch.

"Too late. I am always busy. But I suppose I can make time for you." Octavius sighed, picking up his glass.

"You're too generous. Let's talk in your office." Ahkmen said. 

* * *

Ahkmen sat across from Octavius. His friend, who always had a calm and easy going demeanor, suddenly seemed quite nervous. Octavius looked at him closely.

"Ahk, if you are concerned that your family will not enjoy their meal, I can assure you I have everything under control. I've cooked for your parents before." Octavius told him, but Ahk shook his head quickly. 

"It's not that..." Ahk said, rubbing his neck. He avoided Octavius' eyes. 

"Then what? I do need to speak with my staff quite soon." Octavius said, feeling his patience thinning. 

"Yes, right." Ahkmen sighed, glancing at his watch.

There was another strained pause before Ahk spoke.

"Do you remember Jedediah Smith?" 

Octavius blinked before giving Ahk a confused look. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ahk continued. 

"He's an old friend of mine and and old schoolmate of ours. I don't know if you can remember, but he was in the same year as me, just a year behind you." Ahk explained quickly. 

"I do not remember him. I wouldn't forget such a... _old fashioned_ name." Octavius told Ahkmen.

"So says Augustus Octavius." Ahk laughs softly. "Well that's alright. I just thought that you might remember. He was the only American boy to go to the Academy."

"So what about him, Ahk? Are you bringing him here for a date?" Octavius asked.

"No! He... Well he..." Ahk sighed. "He's a food journalist."

Octavius shot up from his chair, shaking his head slowly. He counted to ten as fast as he could. No. No. _No_.

"Octavius, please!" Ahk said quickly, standing up from his chair. "I have explained to Jedediah your… _thoughts_ about journalists, and he understands if you are hesitant. He really does want to write about the restaurant and your talented cooking!” Ahkmen explained, but Octavius could feel his temper rising.

"Fuck, Ahkmen! I do not want to speak to any fucking journalist, friend or not! They don't care if I can bloody cook well, they just want to get paid to write that I take a cock in the ass!" Octavius snapped.

"I thought you were a top?" Ahk said seriously, but held up his hands when Octavius gave him a murderous look.

“Octavius, please-“

"Enough! I have a kitchen to run, and I will not speak to another fucking journalist for a very long time." Octavius hissed at Ahk, who merely sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

Octavius stormed out of his office, trying to shake the conversation out of his mind. He needed to focus. He needed to cook.  

He needed to forget the name Jedediah Smith.

“Gather around you lot!” Octavius shouted above the noise in the kitchen, which ceased when his voice was heard.

“Yes Chef!”

Octavius stood with arms crossed as his kitchen team hurried to stand at attention before him. When his staff was gathered and waiting, Octavius pointed at Larry, who was now dressed for work. Larry looked calm but ready for action.

“Right ladies and gentleman, this poor unfortunate man who has willingly stepped into my kitchen tonight is Larry. He will be acting as sous chef for this dinner service. Please, spare the friendly banter and focus on your work. I would not get too comfortable with someone who may only be here one night.”

No one said a word. Larry stood completely still.

“As always, I expect excellent service. I want personal involvement, energy, and _concentration_. Do you hear me?”

“Yes Chef!” Everyone answered quickly.

“You have one minute to drink some water, take a piss, and I want all of your bloody phones out of my sight. If I see one, I will gleefully drop it within a pot of boiling water. Go.” Octavius ordered.

“Yes Chef!” His kitchen staff answered their understanding and ran off to prepare themselves for the impending dinner service.

Octavius was quick to grab a clean apron and tie it around his waist, his mind already in work mode. He was alerted of the very first food order by the noise of the ticket machine, which spat it out on white ticket paper. He marched over to the machine, ripping the paper off with one hand.

"Here we go, ladies and gentleman! One _penne alla arrabiata_ , one _porchetta_..."

* * *

When lead correctly, a busy kitchen during a dinner rush can reach a steady rhythm. Octavius’ voice rose over every noise in his kitchen to command excellence in flavor and presentation in a timely and orderly manner. He was the conductor.

The chefs worked hard at their stations, knowing that their willingness and ability to follow, to work hard was what made their nights in Augustus Octavius’ kitchen enjoyable. Every perfect dish that they each slaved over, from the beautifully folded pasta, to the rich sauces, to the juicy roasted meats that came to where Octavius stood and passed his discerning eye, sometimes with the faintest of pleased smiles from Chef, was worth it. Like Octavius, this was their talent and passion, and they wanted to be a part of kitchen that conducted itself like symphony of sizzling pans, clinking plates, and a constant chorus of enthusiastic “Yes Chef!”.

They were in the middle of dinner service when Ahkmenrah came back into the kitchen. Octavius was placing a glistening dish of _caffè_   _panna cotta_ onto the pass when Ahk appeared on the other side.

“Octavius. My mother and father have enjoyed their meal and wish to give their compliments to the Chef.” Ahkmen told him with a smile. **  
**

“And your brother?” Octavius asked, smirking when Ahk rolled his eyes.

“Give me a moment.” Octavius told Ahkmen, who nodded.

“I’ll be sitting with them at their table.” Ahk told him, before walking away.

Octavius made his way towards his office, glancing at his cooks as he passed. The kitchen was running smoothly and efficiently, and Octavius felt a sense of calm. He reached his office, entering it quickly. He removed his apron, checking his coat in the mirror. Everything was perfectly clean. At last he grabbed his tall white toque from the top of a filing cabinet, and looked in the mirror as he placed it neatly onto his head.

“Larry.” Octavius said as he walked out of his office.

“Chef?” Larry asked, hurrying over to Chef.

“I have adorned myself with the culinary condom,” Octavius said as he gestured to his hat “and I shall be in the dining room for a few minutes. Keep the kitchen functioning properly in my absence, won’t you?” Octavius asked in an even tone.

“Yes Chef!” Larry said with a smile, before hurrying back behind the pass.

Octavius sighed, inspecting himself once more before heading towards the kitchen door.

* * *

Octavius forced himself to keep a pleasant and relaxed face as he made his way through the dining room that had every table full with clientele. He wished that he wasn’t so obvious, but with his uniform and hat, he was. Eyes flicked up and over to stare at Octavius, some voices that had been loud a moment ago now lowered to whisper. It was a rare sight to see Chef Octavius out of his kitchen.

The waiters who were in the dining room at the time tensed for a second at the sight of Chef, no doubt wondering if they had done something wrong and were about to face the wrath of Octavius. But he merely nodded at them and the look of relief on their faces was almost comical.

In a more quiet area of the restaurant, Octavius found Ahkmen sitting with his family. They were immersed in conversation (which was in Arabic) and didn’t quite notice the Chef approaching until Octavius cleared his throat quietly.

“Ah, Octavius! Here you are.” Ahkmen said with a smile, standing up from his seat.

Sitting beside him was Ahkmen’s mother, Shepseheret. Octavius remembered her well. She was a beautiful woman, with warm eyes and a dazzling smile. Her dark hair was pulled up elegantly, beautifully blue jewels dangling from her ears that sparkled in the light. She wore a midnight blue dress that moved like water as she rose gracefully from her seat to come towards Octavius.

“Augustus...” Her melodic voice said his first name, and Octavius relaxed.

She brought her slender arms up and cupped his face in her gentle hands.

“I am so glad to see you, my darling.” Sepseheret said sweetly, and Octavius smiled softly.

“Hello _omm_.” Octavius said quietly, remembering how she insisted he call her that when he had met her for the first time, so many years ago.

She smiled at his greeting and let go of his face. Behind her now stood Ahkmen’s father, Merenkahre, who wore a dark suit and silver tie. He smiled at his wife adoringly before turning to Octavius with a more serious face, reaching a hand out to shake Octavius’.

“Mr. Rah. It is good to see you, sir.” Octavius said pleasantly as he shook the man’s hand.

“Indeed it is, Chef.” Mr. Rah said with a small smile. “The food you have prepared for us was delectable.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Kahmun!” Merenkahre barked suddenly.

Ahk’s older brother, Kahmun, had remained in his seat and had been sipping a glass of red wine while staring at his phone. When his father said his name, his head snapped up to look at Octavius with an annoyed expression.

“Come say hello to Octavius and thank him for the wonderful meal.” Mr. Rah told him.

Octavius had to force himself not to roll his eyes at Kahmun’s behavior as the man set his glass and phone down onto the table, before standing up. He walked over to Octavius, straightening his silver suit, and smoothing down his silk red tie. Shepseheret held onto Ahk’s arm and smiled as her eldest son approached Octavius. Octavius held out his hand and Kahmun reached his own out to briefly shake it, his grip weak.

“It’s been a long time, Kah.” Octavius said pleasantly, staring into Kahmun’s dark eyes.

“It certainly has.” Kah muttered as he tucked a long strand of black hair behind his ear.

“Did you enjoy your meal?” Octavius asked, not really caring if he did.

Kahmun’s eyes flicked over to his family, where Ahk was conversing with his mother and father, and none of the Rah’s seemed to be paying them much attention.

“Ah, yes. It was good…” Kah began, before smirking. “But I have been to Italy many times, and I always do enjoy the... _authentic_ Italian cuisine I have there.”

“Shut it, Kah.” Ahk hissed, coming to stand beside Octavius.

Octavius smiled, patting Ahk’s shoulder. Octavius knew that Kahmun was only trying to get under his skin with snide remarks. It never had an affect on him, even when they were children, but it always bothered Ahk.

Ahk’s parents seemed to not have noticed their eldest son’s rudeness, and had returned to their seats at their table.

“Well baby brother, you and Octavius have achieved success with your restaurant, and I congratulate you.” Kah told them, loud enough for Mr. and Mrs. Rah to hear.

“Thank you. And I do hope you achieve yours someday, once you move out of your mummy and daddy’s house.” Octavius murmured, smirking when Kahmun’s eyes narrowed.

“I am so proud of you boys.” Ahk’s mother gushed.“Ahkmen, you should marry Octavius.”

“Here we go...” Ahk sighed.

“What? Just because my son is gay does not mean I will not try to find him a suitable spouse. Octavius is hard working, handsome…”

Octavius smiled shyly as Ahk and Shepseheret spoke to each other quickly in Arabic, his mother sometimes gesturing towards Octavius. Kahmun had returned to his seat and ignored Octavius and his family, once more on his phone. Mr. Rah drank his wine slowly, looking relaxed.

After a moment Octavius cleared his throat quietly and Ahk looked at him apologetically, a blush on his face.

“It was wonderful to see you all. If there is anything else you desire this evening, you need only ask.” Octavius told them kindly, wanting to return to his kitchen.

Octavius remained for one more minute to let Ahk's mother kiss his cheeks, and for his father to shake his hand once more before returning to the kitchen.

Everything was still running smoothly, and Octavius could see and hear Larry getting the plated food out the door. It felt strange to not be the one giving orders, but it brought him some relief.

* * *

The rest of dinner passed by quickly as the evening grew late. At 11:20 the last diners left the restaurant and the waiters worked quickly and efficiently to clean the dining room.

In the kitchen were several tired cooks, but they were satisfied with their work, and began to clean up their stations.

Octavius cracked his knuckles and sighed, glancing at the watch on his wrist. 

"Right, gather around. Everyone!" He called.

The cooks and cleaning crew moved quickly to stand in front of Octavius.

"I want to thank you all for your hard work this evening. We didn't have one single problem or complaint and you don't know how much that pleases me."

Their was a soft murmur of "Thank you, Chef."

"Thank you. Now, I know we are ready to go home, but we need to clean up... Dexter come here."

Dexter approached Octavius nervously. Octavius gave him a small smile and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“As you know, we have had a lack of cleaning personnel for the past week. With Marco gone and Luis out to take care of his wife, Dexter has had to do all the cleaning and prep work, and he has done it all and without a single complaint. I want you all to thank Dexter, and to give him your assistance with cleaning up the kitchen so he can get some sleep before school tomorrow. Then, we can all go home. Is that clear?”

“Yes Chef!” His staff answered.

Octavius patted Dexter on the back, the boy looked up at him with wide eyes and a shy smile.  

“Dex, please take some food home as well, won’t you?” Octavius asked him.

“Y-yes Chef, thank you Chef!” Dexter stammered, before running off towards the dishwasher station.

Octavius stood watching for a moment. Everyone was tired, but they were working together to sweep and carry dirty and clean plates back and forth through the kitchen. Octavius caught sight of Larry rolling out the mop bucket.

"Larry!"

Larry froze, looking at Chef.

"Yes Chef?" Larry said.

"Come with me." Octavius told him, turning towards his office and gesturing for Larry to follow.

* * *

Octavius shook the mouse to his computer, blinking as the dark screen lit up.

The office was dim, one small lamp was turned on. Larry sat across from Octavius. They were silent as Octavius clicked quietly. He heard Larry let out a quiet breath, and his eyes flicked over to where the man sat. He was awake, but Octavius could see that his body was relaxed in the chair, after a long night in the kitchen.

It was another minute before Octavius finally spoke.

"You must be more confident in your directions and orders to the staff." Octavius said, looking at Larry.

There was a pause and then Larry nodded.

"Yes Chef."

"I have talented cooks in my kitchen, but laziness can creep up on anyone if there is no one to wake them up, to keep them focused." Octavius explained quietly.

"Yes, Chef." Larry agreed.

Another minute passed, and Octavius turned in his chair, facing Larry. 

"I would like to offer you the position of sous chef for Sala da Pranzo."

Larry sat up straight in his chair, his mouth opening and closing. Octavius was amused at Larry's facial expressions. Octavius was confident in this decision. He liked Larry. The man was hard working, humble, helpful, and got along well with his staff. Even Attila, his pastry chef, had cracked a smile while working with him. And while Larry was not here to make people happy, his attitude kept his kitchen functioning and lively. 

"You are welcome to smile, Larry." Octavius said, a small smile on his own face. 

Larry laughed and nodded. Octavius leaned back in his chair, feeling a sense of calm he had not felt in some time. 

"So what do you think Larry?" Octavius asked the man, who still looked dazed in his chair. 

Larry's blue eyes looked into Octavius', a grin slowly spreading across his face.

"Honestly Chef, it was so busy tonight I forgot I was even working to get this job." Larry said breathlessly.

Octavius felt his own face crack into a grin. He held a hand out to Larry, who took it quickly and they shook hands. 

"We'll fuss over the paperwork tomorrow. Can you be here by 10 o'clock in the morning?" Octavius asked, stifling a yawn.

"Absolutely Chef, thank you sir!" Larry said, letting go of Octavius' hand. 

"Right. Well, get the fuck out of here while you still can. Get some sleep." Octavius said, gesturing to the door.

"Yes Chef! I'll see ya tomorrow!" Larry told him, and was quick to exit Octavius' office with a large grin on his face.

* * *

Octavius stepped out into the chilly autumn night in the back alley of the restaurant. He was quick to lock up the kitchen door with his key, before placing them back into his chef's pants that he was quite ready to get out of. 

Despite the tiredness coming over his body, Octavius decided to walk back to his apartment. It felt good to stretch and cool off after spending the evening in a hot kitchen. 

The city was still awake. Octavius passed by restaurants and bars that stayed open all night, passed couples and friends who were drinking and laughing together. Their carefree noises were odd to hear. Octavius began to wonder when was the last time he had been out. It was a depressing thought, and he shook his head to forget it. But he couldn't. 

He felt confident in his decision to choose Larry as his new sous. He seemed like a good man, and Octavius had been impressed with his leadership in the kitchen. 

Perhaps Octavius could get a day off now.

He reached his apartment building soon enough, and rode the elevator to the 15th floor. He was already thinking of his bed. Well, first a shower, then bed.

With a quiet jingle of keys, Octavius opened the door and went in, closing the door softly behind him. With a sigh, Octavius threw his keys onto the entrance table and removed his jacket. The lights were off in his apartment. Just as Octavius' hand moved to flick on the light, he stopped. Instead, Octavius removed his work shoes with a groan and padded into the living room. Despite his lights being off, there was light coming through his living room window. Octavius sat upon his couch, his body practically melting onto the soft leather. 

The apartment was quiet except for Octavius' slow breathing. He rested his head on his head, and gazed out the window. The lights of other buildings danced in his vision, and Octavius blinked. He turned his head to his left, where the rest of the couch was empty, before turning back to look out the window.The apartment was lonely and cold. Octavius wondered if there was someone out there for him.

He hoped that they were warm. 


End file.
